To The Gallows
by Erithemaeus
Summary: A short walk to the gallows could save a few more lives than expected. [Alex's last moments in Modern Warfare (2019).]


\- To the Gallows -

One hundred meters. It was a short walk, barely about five minutes if he continued on his current pace. But he could take his time. There were no hostiles here. At the very least, he hoped so.

Alex sighed, connecting detonation wires to his latest C4 installation and stepping back to admire his work. He wasn't smiling. In fact, he could not see a reason to smile. There was only quiet contemplation, and the intermittent sounds of gunshots from somewhere above him. It might have come from the other side of Barkov's Manor. He didn't care.

Instead, he let out his annoyance by kicking the metallic wall, a dull ring and thud echoing throughout the storage space for the gas. Still no one in the room. Maybe they were out there, shoring up the last of their defenses, waiting for him to come to them. Maybe they had already left or retreated. There was also a chance that they were all dead in the assault.

"Not now..." He mutters to himself, once again resuming his short walk towards the end of the gas storage. Seventy-five meters from the end of the road now, and he plants another C4 just in case, sticking it right on the storage tank. A spool of detonator wire looped around the contraption, and another explosive was primed.

Just why did the detonator refuse to work? Alex knew the answer from a two-hundred twenty-five pound man laying dead in the manor's pumping station, armor on fire and riddled with at least three hundred rounds. Enough weight to disturb the delicate electronics within the detonator. Alex wanted to cry foul - that there was no way that a military-grade detonator would fizzle out by one measly collision with a guy in a juggernaut suit, but alas Lady Luck seemed to smile at him.

With vicious teeth and a mocking expression.

There was no out from this. Someone needed to set up the detonator manually now, and the gas storage must be destroyed along with the pipelines and Barkov himself. Farah was handling the latter, while Price and the rest of the SAS that he brought with him were busy shooting up the pipelines in order to blow it up. Which left him, alone and desolate in a clean, metallic space, staring at blinding fluoroscent lights and tall containers of gas that broke the Geneva Convention.

"Heh, what a shitty way to go..." Alex mutters to the walls around him with a deprecating smile, continuing his journey to string up explosive Christmas lights.

Twenty-five meters. All was fine until Alex found his hands shaking, unable to thread the wire around the pack of C4. A part of him just wanted to wrap the wire around the damn thing about five times. Another told him to reconsider. Much to his annoyance, his brain chose the latter option.

Once more he tried, with no results. He took a deep breath, a cloud escaping his lips while staring at his current set-up with a smile, a finger rapping against the metal wall in annoyance. So he didn't want to die. It was just every other human being's wish, and a perfectly understandable one at that. But the mission came first. His CO's orders came first. If he didn't do his part, then the Russians would eventually find the stockpile of gas and hoard it once more. It might not be in terrorist hands any longer, but with the current state of Urzikstan? A little bit of oversight and suddenly some parts of it are covered in a sickly green mist.

For the greater good. For a country that he empathised with; a leader of soldiers that wanted independence against their oppressors. For American interests as well, he can beckon. With this amount of gas and a few sympathisers, the US might get a sordid wake-up call. It was enough to stop his hands from shaking, and he threaded the loop. Once, twice, thrice. Then onto the final C4.

Zero meters. His legs wouldn't move, stuck to the ground like particularly heavy pieces of lead. The last pack of C4 he held in a trembling hand, a spool of detonator wire in the other. Both hands were trembling. He didn't want to do this. Who in their right mind would?

Still, if he _did _turn back now, what then? Nothing but a court martial and dismissal at him when he goes home. Tensions rising between the US and Russia. Or maybe Russia would finally have _casus belli _to invade Urzikstan and stamp out all lingering resistance. No more Barkov, but just the entire Russian government in its stead. Alex doubted that the situation could turn for the better.

Besides, what else has he have to lose?

… A lot, his mind said to himself. Family. Friends. Opportunities. He was still young. There was still a long way to go before he kicked the bucket by natural causes. But was one life enough to justify condemning unknown others to their doom?

The last C4 was placed, and he began tying the last of the spool into its terminal. All done. It was also a relatively simple thing to connect the entire set-up to the fudged detonator. The electric pulse would do enough. Explosions would take care of the rest. 'If only's' flashed through his mind at an alarming rate, and his hand trembles as he arms the detonator, all primed and ready to blow.

Waiting was all that was left. Until the inevitable order that would either seal his fate, or the lives of others that he would never see.

Alex reached for his communicator and smiled. Perhaps for the last time. "Bravo, Echo is set at the furnace. Farah's going for the general."


End file.
